


Heat Of The Moment

by cosplayermadness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x24, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 13, Spoilers, back from the dead, season 13, season 13 episode 24, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 08:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosplayermadness/pseuds/cosplayermadness
Summary: Sam’s not sleeping, which isn’t unusual when every thought he has swirling in his head is of Micheal masquerade around all of earth using Dean’s face against his will. He wishes he knew what to do, but he can’t do much, except go into the night to buy milk. It’s not his fault a certain other not so dead archangel decides to fuck with his radio.





	Heat Of The Moment

Sleeping had always been a problem for Sam, especially after he got his damaged soul back from hell, the walls breaking down making it damn near impossible to function. It wasn’t much better now that Dean was gone. No, not gone exactly. He was still technically alive somewhere, riding shotgun in his own body with an archangel piloting him like a decommissioned fighter jet. 

 

“Sam, are we out of milk?” 

 

He lifted his head from the book he’d been reading - staring at, more like - to look at Jack’s own disheveled hair, sunken eyes staring back at him. “Yeah. Can’t sleep?” Jack nodded solemnly. “I have some Melatonin in my room. Do you want me to get you another pill? It might help.”

 

The boy sat in the stool across from him, eyes drawn down the the kitchen table below. He did this sometimes, deflect.  **_He really_ ** **could** **_be my son_ ** , Sam thought, noticing the same behaviour he’d adopted when he was a kid. “Maybe. I just… he hurt you. He hurt you and you never told me.”

 

“What? Who-“

 

“Lucifer.” The eyes met, the pain in Jack’s palpable. The stinging bile taste in his mouth was overwhelming at the mention of his abuser’s name, but Sam said nothing, waiting for Jack to continue. “Castiel told me about the apocalypse, about hell, and how Lucifer… I know you didn’t tell me because you were trying to protect me, but… I trust you, Sam. You’re more of a father to me than he’d ever be, and I want to know if you’re hurting. I can help if you’re hurting.”

 

“Jack,” he lay a soft hand on top of the Nephilim’s. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, the hum of the bunker’s AC kicked up. “It’s not the job of the child to take care of the parent. It’s a nice gesture to do once in a while, or maybe when the parent’s older, and the kid’s an adult and- but that’s not us. Jack, you’re job isn’t to take care of me. Just like my job isn’t to take care of mom. Yeah, family’s about taking care of one another, but we’re raising you- Cas, mom, De-“ he closed his eyes at the sting of his brothers name. “You need to worry about you. You’re not responsible for his sins, Jack.” He opened his eyes, careful of his gaze. “And I didn’t tell you because..”

 

“It’s painful.” Jack nodded. Sam was never  _ not  _ surprised by how deep and emotionally developed he was. He’d have to hope that one day he could thank Kelly for that, and apologize to her for not being able to protect her son better. “Mary said pain doesn’t have to be felt alone, though. She said it’s easier to work through it when you have other people to help.”

 

“Hmm. You talking to mom a lot, huh?”

 

“Yeah. I like her. Would… would it be too soon to call her grandma?”

 

Sam laughed. He didn’t mean to, it just… his mother. A  _ grandma _ . It was probably accurate though, with Ben definitely being Dean’s son - Sam was certain Lisa had lied through her teeth about the nature of Ben’s lineage - and Emma… they didn’t talk about Emma. But it made sense. Mary Winchester was a grandparent… whether she knew it or not was another story. “I don’t think she’d mind, but you’d have to talk to her about it, you know, just in case.”

 

Jack smiled, pleased with himself. “Okay.” His smile faltered. “But Sam, you should talk to someone about your pain. If not me, then Mary.” Sam shook his head, an argument already on his lips. “Then Castiel. Someone. Maybe that shifter therapist lady. She was really nice, and very good at her job. She can help, and I don’t think she’d need to shift into anyone for you, so long as you can just.. talk about it. Talking helps.”

 

Running his hands through his hair in frustration, he resigned himself to talking about this later. “Sure. Okay. But not tonight. Do you want to try the melatonin? It’ll just mellow you out enough to pass out.”

 

Jack nodded resolutely. “Yeah. I usually have milk with some cinnamon in it but, we’re out of milk, so..”

 

“I’ll go buy more.”

 

“Now?” They turned to see Mary standing in the doorway, pj’s and hair rumbled from falling asleep on the couch again. She’d been having her own issues with sleep, often taking the impala for long drives to look for her son in every bar and dive she could get close to. She’d spent a few days at Jody’s last week, Sam begging Jody to try to get his mom to do something fun for a change and take care of herself. But I’m true Winchester fashion, she’d only ended up making Patience and Alex stir crazy. In the spare second Mary had and she couldn’t sleep, Sam and Bobby would find her in the ‘Dean Cave’ watching her eldest son’s westerns through the night. 

 

He shrugged, trying to hide the fatigue in his bones from her. “Can’t sleep and I’m feeling cooped up here. We’re running low on supplies anyways. Wanna come with?”

 

“No, I think I’ll get Jack to bed before cataloging some-“

 

“Mom.”

 

“Don’t  _ mom _ , me.” She snapped. “I’m still your mother, you know. Don’t chastise me for-“

 

“I’m not! I’m just-“

 

“Just what? I’m okay, I just-“

 

“You need sleep!”

 

“So do you!”

 

“I cant-“ he gasped in a breath. “I need to do  _ something _ , okay?” 

 

Jack slammed a hand to the table, the cup of water next to him shaking. “Enough. I can’t handle you fighting, and everyone can’t sleep because we all shut our eyes and see Dean and we’re all worried and I can’t-“ Sam and Mary’s eyes widened at the tears in the teen’s eyes. “I can’t stand watching the rest of my family fall apart, okay? Can we just… Mary, can we please watch an episode of Bones together, and then go to bed? I’d like to see the season finale together.”

 

Her eyes softened, the frustration in the room deflating. “Yeah, yeah okay. Just… Sam, are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

 

He nodded, already getting up to grab the list off the fridge. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.” He hugged Jack tightly, then her. “Any requests?”

 

It shouldn’t have surprised him when they both said ‘bacon’ 

 

———————————————-

 

Normally, he and Dean would drive to Hastings to do their grocery shopping, the Walmart there far away enough that they could shake off anyone lest they try to tail them to the bunker. But Sam was exhausted, and he didn’t really feel like driving over an hour each way. The closest grocery store was smaller, with a decent selection and friendly staff, but most importantly, open 24 hours. 

 

In front of a can of cream of celery soup, he heard it. The music on the intercom came in all staticy, broken up and faint, but he heard it. 

 

“ _ I never meant to be so bad to you _ _   
_ _ One thing I said that I would never do” _

 

His heart shot up into his throat, can of soup on his hand dropping to the floor in a clatter. He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. It  _ couldn’t  _ be. 

 

_ “A look from you and I would fall from grace _ _   
_ _ And that would wipe this smile right from my face”  _

 

“Gabriel?” He asked tentatively. The spike in volume on the intercom was the only change, though subtle. Sam asked a stocker who the manager or the night supervisor was, but when prompted about the song, neither one of them knew what he was talking about. 

 

He quickly paid for the milk, some bread, and a bunch of other stapes - including the bacon - and headed to the car. Popping in a Zeppelin tape into The Impala tape deck, he started up the car, pulling out and gunning it a bit too fast down the road. As he turned down a familiar road, the sound changed, and he hit the brakes hard, the whole car pitching forwards. 

 

_ Do you remember when we used to dance? _ _   
_ _ And incident arose from circumstance _

 

“What… the fuck?” He shook himself. “Gabriel?”  Again, the only change was the sound increasing on its own.

 

_ One thing lead to another, we were young _ _   
_ _ And we would scream together songs unsung _

 

Sam threw the car into drive, and headed for the bunker, back the way he came, but… the song faded out, Zepplin’s  _ Four Sticks _ blaring through the speakers. It’s not until he turned a corner that the song ebbed back and something inside him clicked. He turned the car around and followed the direction where the music got louder, clearer. 

 

_ It was the heat of the moment _ __   
_ Telling me what your heart meant _ _   
_ __ The heat of the moment shone in your ey es

 

Sam floored it, turning around and trying a different turn at forks in the road, barreling down the streets at speeds that would have his license stripped if any cops bothered to be awake and chasing criminals. 

 

_ And now you find yourself in eighty two _ _   
_ _ The disco hot spots hold no charm for you _

 

“Come on Gabriel, where next? Huh? Come on, you rotten angel, tell me where you are.” The music grew louder, almost ear splittingly so, Sam wincing as his ears rang. “Okay, okay, just fucking tell me where you are!” 

 

_ You can't concern yourself with bigger things _ _   
_ _ You catch the - _

_ wings- _

_ wings- _

_ wings- _

 

“What the hell?” The song skipped over and over again, stuck in wings, and a feeling of dread filled him, more so than the sound of that hell forsaken song, but for the implication. “Oh God, Gabe. Do you have your wings?” He felt so stupid, talking to a radio as he whipped down a dirt road, not a single street light around. 

 

_ -fall from grace- _

_ fall from grace- _

_ fall from grace- _

_ Heat of the moment, shone in your eyes  _

 

Sam’s foot fell heavy on the gas, forgetting momentarily that he could get pulled over for going double the speed limit, hoping it was true, but also wasn’t. If Gabriel were alive- he couldn’t think, he just drove. 

 

The music became clear and strong just out front of a warehouse that had seen better days at the end of the dirt road he kicked up. The radio shut off as soon as he made a full stop in front of the abandoned building, Sam slipping a gun in his waistband and another in his palm, just in case. Shutting the engine off, he hauled ass inside, half expecting an ambush, instead of a mostly empty skeleton of a warehouse or factory of some kind with a body sprawled on the hard concrete, moonlight shining on his hair. **_Moonlight? Where..._** Sam thought for a whole two seconds before looking up and seeing a giant gaping hole where the roof and ceiling used to be. 

 

“Hello?” He asked cautiously. “I’m hot here to cause trouble, I just-“

 

A low groan emitted from the body, head turning just slightly towards him. He barely remembered to uncock the gun before running to the figure’s side. 

 

“Gabe!” Sam cradled the archangel’s head in his hands.

 

A cheeky smile shone up at him. “Hey, Sam. Did ya miss me.”

 

A choked off sob ripped its way from Sam’s throat, head falling forwards. Hair covering his face, he muttered, “you have no idea.”

 

“Sam. Sam, what happened?” Sam shook his head, tears rolling down his face. “Sam, please don’t shut down on me. Hey, come on. Tell me.”

 

“Dean. He- he said yes. Lucifer was going to kill  _ Jack _ , going to kill  _ me _ . So he- Gabriel. I don’t know what to do.”

 

Gabriel reached weak arms up, wrapping Sam into a soft, warm hug. “It’s going to be okay. I got you. I got you now. Where’s Jack? Cas?”

 

“Bunker.”

 

“And your mom?” Sam nodded. “Okay, okay that’s good. They’re okay?” Another nod. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Sam wiped his eyes aggressively. This was not something they could figure out like pizza toppings. “How? How are we going to fight Michael?”

 

Gabriel froze. Rigid under Sam, his breath came in quick gusts. “Sam. I can’t-“

 

“Gabe?”

 

“Please, please don’t make me. I can’t fight him, not again. Please don’t, please don’t make me fight. Sam, please-“

 

“Gabe, Gabe no. Stop. No. You’re done fighting this, I won’t make you do that. Just… tell me what to do.”

 

Gabriel stared open mouthed at the man. Shock didn’t even begin to cover it. “What?”

 

“Tell me what to do.” Sam repeated, tone gentle. “You know Michael better than anyone else on this earth. Tell me what to do. I won’t make you fight, not again. You don’t have to fight them anymore, I just need someone to- to tell me-“ he swallowed his tears, trying so hard to keep from crying. Again. 

 

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, sniffling at the dust motes dancing in the air around them. “Okay, okay, it’s okay, Sam. We’ll figure something out. Just… please, don’t shut down, okay? Let’s get to the bunker and talk about this with some hot chocolate.” 

 

Sam nodded, exhaustion stuck in his bones like peanut butter on paper, head gently connecting with Gabriel’s shoulder. He just rested there, Gabe wrapped around him on the dirty warehouse floor for a few breaths. “We have ice cream too.”

 

“Mmm. Neopolitain?” Sam nodded again. “Cool. Wanna help me up? Or we just gonna sit here all night?”

 

Sam huffed. “‘M so tired.” 

 

Gabriel unwrapped his arms, pushing Sam’s face off him to look at his face more clearly in the dim lighting. “You haven’t been sleeping.” Sam said nothing, which only made Gabe more upset. “Come on, Sam. You gotta take care of yourself. Let’s go back to the bunker, I’ll drive and you can get some sleep, Hmm?” 

 

Sam didn’t need more coaxing, yanking himself up off the floor, then Gabriel, helping the shorter with walking around the bits of rubble on the floor. The soothing sounds of Enya (of all things Gabe could put in) and the rumble of the engine speeding down the road lulled Sam to sleep. 

 

The milk surprisingly didn’t spoil. 


End file.
